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poetry, —— Now. ac; 
A 
Then may my friend weep o’er the fun'ral hearse, 
Then may his presence gild the awful gloom; 
And his last tribute be some mournful verse, 
To mark the spot that holds my silent tomb. 
This, and no more,—the rest let heaven provide, 
To which resign’d, I trust my weal or woe, 
Afsur’d, howe’er its justice fhall decide, - j 
To find nought worse than I have left below. Mirra. 
—eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 
VERSES ADDRESSED TO A BLACKBIRD, 
For the Bee. 
Hasr thou sweet bird drunk of oblivion's stream, 
That thus thy sprightly lay ascends on high; 
When yester mern pierced by the hunter’s aim, 
Thou view’d thy gentle fond companion die ? 
I mark’d thee flutter round thy breathlefs love, 
And try to wake him by each varied nate 5 
I wept to see thy efforts fruitlefs prove, 
But thou already hast his death forgot. 
Would IJ, like thee, could drink oblivion’s wave, 
Or bear with such indiff'rence ev’ry care ! 
Then fhould I cease to meurn o’er Edward’s grave, 
To bathe it with the tears of wild despair. 
My thoughts ne more would dwell on scenes of blifs, 
‘When ev’ry moment fled on pleasure’s wing 5 , 
For ah! remembrance adds to my distrefs, 
And sensibility my soul doth wring. 
Mem’ry no more would Edward’s death retrace, 
Edward, the friend and hufband of my youth ; 
And from my mind oblivion would erase 
His tender love, his constancy and truth, 
What have I with’d for!—to forget my woe ! 
Forget the faithful partner of my heart! 
Return rafh with, far rather would I know 
Each agonising pang of mis’ry’s dart. 
Though sensibility has many a thorn, 
And oft has call’d the tear into my eye 5 
My wounded bleeding bosom much has torn, 
And heav’d it-oft with sorrows saddest sigh; 
The mournful goddefs still would I retain, 
Ev’n when fhe loads me with a weight of grief; 
Adds to my anguifh’d soul another pain, 
I would not from indiff'rence find relief, 
